


Margu

by kailthia



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: 15 pages of cute on google doc, Fluff and Crack, Gen, Nosebleeds, Sansukh-verse, birthday story, dwarfling misadventures, featuring pigs, giant cake, just the fluffiest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 09:21:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6848734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kailthia/pseuds/kailthia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Gimizh's fifteenth birthday. There are Antics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Margu

**Author's Note:**

  * For [determamfidd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/determamfidd/gifts).



A driving force ploughing into his ribs woke Bofur from a sound sleep. He cracked an eye to see a small face surrounded by unkempt red hair staring at him intently. 

“Moornin’, Da.”

Bofur groaned, and firmly closed his eyes, snuggling backwards a little to take advantage of Gimris’ warmth.

A large, childish huff was heard almost immediately, and any chances of going back to sleep were lost as Gimizh carefully peeled back his nightcap and the blankets covering his father’s upper body. Gimizh happily snuggled into Bofur’s chest.

“G’mornin’, Da.”

Bofur yawned. “Wha’ time is it?”

Gimizh grinned sheepishly. “Five … thirty.”

Bofur scowled sleepily. “Gimizh, lad, you know you’re no’ to come in here before six unless” - he yawned again - “it’s an emergency.”

“It  _ is _ an emer-gen-cy!” Gimizh enunciated, bouncing around on the bed in his excitement. He managed to dislodge the blankets even further, ensuring that Bofur was completely awake while dislodging Gimris from her state of contented sleep.

“What?” she grumbled. “Can’t be too bad if you’re so excited.”

Gimizh climbed over to his mother in an attempt to give her a kiss on the cheek, falling backwards on the bed in his excitement. He drew close to Gimris and Bofur, drawing to a point approximately equidistant between them.

“It’s my birthday!” he shouted happily, his bottom wiggling a little in his excitement. “I’m fifteen!”

Gimris blinked the sleep out of her eyes, then sat up and cuddled Gimizh close. “Happy birthday, little pebble.”

“Thank you, mommy.”

Bofur grinned and grabbed his son, tickling his sides a little to make him giggle. “Happy birthday. Now,” he said, as he got out of bed and settling Gimizh on the floor, “let’s go get you dressed while your Mum does the same here, and then we can have breakfast. A special birthday breakfast.”

“Pancakes?” asked Gimizh, his eyes huge and his lower lip wobbling. “Wi’ fruity bits?”

“Mm-hm,” Bofur agreed. “I’ll make you pancakes, and we got some very nice dried raspberries in the other day from your Uncle Bombur. But first,” he looked down at Gimizh with a put-on frown, “we need to be dressed and ready, alright?”

“Sure, Dad.”

**

Gimizh carefully watched his dad put the raspberries and another dribble of batter on the half-cooked pancake. Gimizh was almost vibrating with excitement on his stool, but he knew not to move around to much or disturb Dad when he was cooking.

Gimizh was so intent on the pancake-making process that he didn’t notice his mother sweep into the kitchen until she dropped a kiss on the top of his head. After standing up again and giving Bofur a peck on the cheek, she peered at the pancakes. 

“Gimizh, sweetheart, how about you take a seat and put your napkin on. This set is almost done and you don’t want to muss your clothes.”

Trotting over to his nice, mostly-grown-up chair (it had two of Mum’s textbooks on it so he could see up, and the legs were a little longer than normal, but he didn’t have to use a highchair like Balin anymore), Gimizh sat quietly while Gimris tucked in his napkin and fussed over his clothes. Luckily, the arrival of a plateful of pancakes refocused Gimris’ attentions. After she had cut the pancakes into slices and added some maple syrup, Gimizh happily began to shove pieces of pancake into his mouth. He grinned at his dad.

“This is weally goo’, Dad!”

Bofur wrinkled his nose. “Of course it is! It’s Bombur’s tried and true pancake recipe. It’s delicious.”

Gimizh nodded. “‘Licious!” Swallowing, he reached for another piece of pancake. 

The three pancakes on the plate disappeared in short order, though Gimizh’s mum was still working on hers. Well, Gimizh had gotten his first.

“There any more, Daddy?”

“Of course, son.” His plate was whisked away, and was returned with two fresh pancakes on it. Gimizh put some syrup on them - with only a little help from his dad! - and began inhaling them.  

When the initial rush of pancake-devouring was almost done, his mum coughed. Gimizh looked up to see her shaking her head despairingly, making the little braids that went in and around the big central one swing and shake.

“You need to eat more carefully, sweetheart. You’ll choke if you keep up like that.”

Gimizh pouted, but began to eat at a more careful pace. It made the pancakes last longer, anyway. 

Gimizh was putting his plate in the sink when he heart the doorbell ring. Gimris looked at him and arched a brow. “Will you get that, son?”

“Okay.”

The napkin, plate, and fork dropped, and Gimizh was off towards the front door and a trot. He carefully stretched up-up-up to turn the knob, grunting with effort as he got it. Thankfully, the person on the other side pushed a bit too, since the door was too heavy for him to lift by himself. 

“Uncle Gimli!!” Gimizh squealed, before running into his uncle’s legs.

“Hello, little pebble,” said his uncle, patting his head. “Happy birthday.”

“Even better now,” burbled Gimizh, happily rubbing his face on Gimli’s pant leg. 

Gimli laughed and disentangled his nephew to lift him up and settle him on his hip, before starting to walk towards the kitchen. “You’re getting heavier, lad. Soon you’ll be too heavy to carry.”

“No!” said Gimizh, burying his face in Gimli’s beard. “You carry me forever!” he said, voice muffled by the beard. “Even when I’m aaaaawl big, bigger than Wee Thorin even?” Gimizh stuck his head out from Gimli’s beard and gave him his best big-eyes-and-wobbly-lip combination.

Gimli laughed again. “I’ll try, but I don’t know how well I’ll do.”

As they entered the kitchen, Gimizh wriggled in Gimli’s arms until he was let down. “Mommy, I want a drink of water, please?” he asked, heading over to his mother. Dad was too busy doing dishes to get him a drink.

Gimris stood up from putting in her jewelry, and, grabbing a cheap pottery mug, filled it with barley water, and handed it to her son. Gimizh gulped it down, and put the mug in the sink before wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

“Gimizh! Don’t do that,” grumbled Bofur. “That’s a nice shirt.”

“Well,” muttered Gimizh’s mum quietly, “this is why we didn’t put him in his fancy clothes to start.” Gimizh wrinkled his nose. His parents always said stuff like that, even when he could very obviously hear them.

“Alright,  _ Amad _ ,” he grumbled.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me,  _ inùdoy _ , ” scolded Gimris. “Now, your uncle is going to take you out until supper so we can get the house ready for the party, alright?”

Gimizh brightened. “Really?”

Gimli chuckled. “Really. If you’re ready, we can go now. I talked to Dwalin yesterday, and we can go over there and pick up Wee Thorin and Balin and spend the entire morning and part of the afternoon with them.”

Gimizh’s eyes were huge. “So you’n’me an’ Wee Thorin an’ Balin can play for the  _ entire  _ mornin’? An’ then some?”

“Absolutely.”

Gimizh wiggled in unadulterated joy. “This gonna be the awesomest birthday ever!

***

Gimizh happily munched on a scone in Wee Thorin’s family’s living room as his friends hurried. Apparently having a new baby in the house slowed things down - Uncle Dwalin and Aunt Orla were usually very on-time.

Reminded of the baby, Gimizh wandered over to the hearth, where Frerin was napping in his basket. He didn’t look all that cute. for all that the adults were always cooing over him. What little bit of hair he had was all floofy, and his cheeks were all chub. Though even Gimizh had to admit that his nose was kinda nice. 

Gimizh hoped that he hadn’t looked that squishy when he was a baby. And (giving the air a quick sniff) that he hadn’t been as smelly. Baby poo was nasty business.

“Now, Gimizh,” said Gimli from his position over by the coffee pot, “don’t wake the baby. He needs to sleep so he can grow.”

“I know,”Gimizh pouted. “I just looked in case he needed somefink.” 

“And did he?”

“No, but he smells kinda poo-y.”

“Well, leave him be. If he needs changing, he’ll wake up soon enough. You always did.”

Gimizh made a face and scampered over to Gimli, crawling up into his lap for a cuddle. He dislodged the bag which his Mum had given Uncle Gimli for the day - he thought it had snacks. And maybe socks.

“Can we go to the river-starter, uncle?”

“The spring? Of course, pebble. But later, we have some other errands to run first.” 

His uncle’s hands were in his hair, adjusting his tiny sticky-out-y braids, and Gimizh was almost purring under the attention. By the time Gimli was done, Wee Thorin and Balin had returned to the living room and were saying goodbye to their little brother.

“Have a nice day, Frerin,” said Wee Thorin, before kissing his finger and pressing it to Frerin’s forehead gently. “Sleep lots.”

“Less crying!” said Balin emphatically, before adjusting his brother’s bee toy, which took up half of the top of his basket. 

Together, the brothers came over to Gimizh and Gimli. 

“Let’s go, befowe he wakes up again!” said Balin, adjusting his oversized scarf so it covered his ears more securely.

“Yeah!” agreed Gimizh. “I wanna go see the water!”

Gimizh heard his uncle mutter a little to himself as he and his friends were ushered out the door. It mustn't have been very important, or else he would have talked louder. Gimizh shrugged it off and hurried down the hallway. There were adventures to be had!

**

“H’lo, Cousin Barur!”

Barur sighed and turned around, looking at his little cousin, his friends, and Gimizh’s rather shame-faced uncle.

“Gimizh.”

“Yesh?” Gimizh’s innocent face was far too studied.

“You know not to interrupt me when I’m in the middle of something at work.”

Gimizh had the grace to look at least slightly sorry. “Did I make you do a boo-boo?”

“This cookie isn’t any good anymore. It was going to the Lady Dis, and now I can’t send it to her because the icing is all messy.”

Gimizh considered the situation for a moment, then looked up at Barur consideringly.

“Barur?”

“Yes?”

“I have answer to your problem,” said Gimizh, all seriousness.

“And what’s that?” Barur was fairly certain he knew.

“Give me the bad cookie. They won’t talk,” said Gimizh, gesturing to Barur’s helpers (all busy with other tasks) and his own friends (Balin and Wee Thorin were examining a tray of finished cookies under Gimli’s watchful eyes). 

Barur considered. “Weeell,” he drawled, “I suppose that can be arranged.” Gimizh brightened. “On one condition, though.”

“What, Barur?”

“Well, I heard that it was someone’s birthday today. So in exchange for this ruined cookie, you have to take this basket to the birthday child.” Reaching up to a high shelf, Barur took down a small, flat-bottomed basket that was covered by a cloth and had a pretty ribbon adorning its handle. Gimizh’s eyes were wide as he took the basket.

“For me?” he asked.

Barur nodded, hiding his smile. “All for you. Now,” he said, handing Gimizh the ruined cookie and the basket, “shoo. I have work to do, and it goes better without little’uns getting in the way.”

***

Gimizh carefully positioned himself on the top of the slide, angling his bottom for maximum velocity. Then he nodded, and got a firm push to his back from Wee Thorin. 

“Wheeee!”

He came to the bottom of the slide - and Uncle Gimli in practically no time. “Pick m’up?” he asked.

Uncle Gimli - the best uncle ever - did as asked and picked him up, balancing him on his empty hip. “Come on Balin,” he said encouragingly. “You can do it!”

“Go Balin!” cheered Gimizh. “It’s lotsa fun.”

Balin looked down at the slide dubiously from his position at the top with Wee Thorin. Gimizh couldn’t hear what his bestest friend said to his brother, but it must have been good, because Balin sat down in the mouth of the slide and allowed Wee Thorin to push him off.

Gimizh clapped as Balin reached the bottom. “Go Balin! Good job!”

Balin smiled and tottered over to his friend as Wee Thorin started down the slide. Wee Thorin was holding on to the practice-piercing stuck to his nose so it wouldn’t fall off.

“Can we go again, Uncle Gimwi?”

“Of course, pebble. Go ahead.”

Gimizh and Wee Thorin scampered over to the slide again, Balin following at a more sedate pace. When they got to the top of the platform, Gimizh looked over the edge at Gimli.

“Lookit me, Uncle! Lookit!”

“Get away from the edge, Gimizh - it’s not safe!” Gimli spoke firmly, knowing that yelling would only disturb little Balin and might surprise Gimizh into falling off. The platform only had a small railing, not enough to stop a determined child from leaning over and falling.

“Hurry up an’ move back, Gimizh.” piped Wee Thorin, trying to catch a handful of Gimizh’s shirt to haul him back. Gimizh turned around at the pressure on his back, his arms flying out. One of his elbows connected with Wee Thorin’s nose with a loud crunch. 

“Oh!” said Wee Thorin, just before his nose began to spurt blood at a rather alarming rate.

***

“How does it wok?” asked Balin, wide-eyed.

Gimizh looked almost as interested as he did at the giant doorway to the Mountain, but Balin just thought it was the most best thing he’d seen for … a  _ whole month _ .  

“Well,” said one of the guards on duty, tugging at their impressive green moustaches, “there’s a system of levers, which you can see right over here. If you gentlefolk will follow me ... ”

***

Gimli held on to his nephew  _ very firmly _ as Gimizh wriggled madly, trying to get a closer look at the spring that was the source of the River Running. The spring rushed out gaily, a mass of very cold, fast-moving water. Gimli had led his charges fairly close to the wading pool, so there was less chance of them drowning. This also meant that there was plenty of water splashing around for Gimizh to be entranced by.

Wee Thorin and Balinith were gazing at the water with expressions as rapt as Gimizh’s, but they were a safe distance away from the water, and Wee Thorin had a firm grasp on his brother’s sleeve. Wee Thorin might be goaded into dangerous territory when he was alone with Gimizh, but he would do nothing that had a chance of endangering his brothers. And Balinith’s curiosity with natural phenomena was countered by a reasonable caution and a sense of deliberation which was unusual in an eleven-year-old.

Gimli carefully set Gimizh down, turning the lad around and kneeling around so they could look each other in the eyes.

“Gimizh.”

“Yeeeeesh, Uncle?”

“You have to be very careful with the water, Gimizh. You could get hurt if you fell in. Do you understand?”

Gimizh wrinkled his nose, thinking hard, then nodded solemnly. “I be careful, Uncle Gimli. An’ I’ll hold your hand, the whoole time.”

Gimli nodded, and took Gimizh’s little outstretched hand. “Alright then.” The two redheads slowly approached the water, Gimizh staring avidly at the mass of rushing liquid.

They quickly reached the edge, Gimli maintaining a firm grip on Gimizh’s tiny hand. Gimizh stared at the water, so entranced that Gimli dared a look at his other two charges - who were still a comfortingly safe distance away from any drowning risk.

Gimizh knelt down and peered at the water. Gimli kept a careful hold on his nephew’s jacket as he looked over to his other two cousins. He frowned, not noticing when Gimizh’s small body shed the jacket to investigate the water more closely.

“Balin, you can’t stick your hand in the water. The people in Dale have to drink this stuff, and they wouldn't like it if they got dirty wat-”

**_Splash!_ **

Gimli took a deep breath, held it for a count of five, then let it out before turning around. Gimizh was happily submerged to the waist in the wading area, grinning hugely. 

“Uncle?”

“Yes, Gimizh?”

“I peed in the water.”

***

“AunDish!” squealed Gimizh as soon as he saw Dis’ face in the door of her apartments.

Dis stood for half a minute, staring. Gimizh was soaked to the skin, and clutched to Gimli’s chest in a ratty scrap of blanket.

“Good morning, Aunt Dis,” said Gimli with a tired smile. “May we come in?”

“Do you have a good explanation for this?”

“I have an explanation.”

“Well, come in, then. You can dry off your nephew and tell me all about it.”

***

Gimizh happily played blocks with Balin and Wee Thorin in Aunt Dis’ living room. He had a spare set of clothing that his mum had thoughtfully packed for him, so he could be nice and dry. 

Aunt Dis turned away from Uncle Gimli to look at Gimizh. “Are you quite recovered from your experience, little one?”

Gimizh grinned, nodding enthusiastically. “Yes, Aunty. It was lots’n’lots of fun. Though,” he frowned, “I dunno if peeing in the water was a good idea.”

Aunty Dis’ eyebrows came in in a way that meant she was trying not to smile. “It was probably not your best idea, sweetheart.”

Gimizh shrugged. “S’ok. Di’n’t get hurt.”

“True enough. Now, I have a present for you.”

“Really?” Gimizh shot up, a huge smile on his face. “Where?”

“Really really,” Dis said, smiling a little. “I’ll go get it, but the blocks had better be put away by the time I get back.”

“Yes, AunDish,” said Gimizh, Wee Thorin and Balin a beat behind.

The blocks were almost away in their box by the time that Dis returned with a small wrapped package. Balin had kept one back to chew on - he had a tooth loose again, and was busily trying to eject it.

Gimizh pushed himself up off the floor by the block box into a seated position. 

“Here you go, Gimizh,” said Aunt Dis, handing him the package. “Happy birthday.” She returned to her seat on the couch next to Gimli.

“Thank you,” Gimizh replied absently as he looked the package over. It didn’t look very big, but Aunt Dis always gave awesome presents. 

He tore at the bow, but it wouldn’t open. He handed it to Wee Thorin. “Open, please?” 

“Sure.” 

It still wouldn’t open. Gimizh frowned, and took the package over to his uncle.

“Open, please?”

“Alright.”

After a moment’s work (and the surreptitious application of a small knife), the bow slipped off. “Here you go.”

Gimizh ripped off the paper and squealed. “A pony!” 

“Indeed it is,” said Dis. “Check the legs.”

Gimizh carefully poked one of the pony’s forelegs - it moved. Gimizh’s mouth dropped. Wee Thorin’s eyes were big, and Balin was looking at the pony with an interested eye.

“Your father says that it will fit some of the toys he’s already made for you, so your dolls can go riding,” said Dis. “And, of course, the pony is quite good by herself.”

“It’s a girl pony?” asked Gimizh.

“Yes, a mare. Now, why don’t you and your friends play for a bit while I talk to your uncle? You can stay for lunch.”

Gimizh nodded, most of his attention on his new toy. “Sure, AunDish.” He brightened. “There’ll be cookies!”

“You visited the kitchens this morning?”

Making a positive noise, Gimizh nodded. “I made Barur ruin a cookie. It wa’ fun.”

“Well, you’d better not ruin any of my cookies. They’re special cookies.”

“Pwincess cookies?” asked Balin.

“Yes, Balin, they’re princess cookies.”

Gimizh crossed his eyes, thinking hard. “If the cookies are princess cookies, and I ate one, does that make me a princess?”

Dis considered. “I don’t think so.”

“If I eat the whooole batch, will I get Princess-y?”

“No.”

“Why nawt?” asked Balin, face screwed up in concentration. “Pwincess cookies make you pwincessy.”

“They’re cookies  _ for _ a princess, not  _ made _ of princess,” explained Wee Thorin.

“Quite right,” said Dis. “And in any case, if princess cookies made one princessy, Dwalin would have been the princessiest of princesses long ago. He loves this recipe.”

“Pwincess daddy!” Balin warbled happily.

“ _ Adad _ would be the  _ best _ princess.” Wee Thorin said stoutly, putting out his chin pugnaciously. 

***

“Mista Gimwi?”

“Yes, Balin?”

Balin popped his thumb out of his mouth. “Why does the goats have sideways eyes?”

“Because that’s how their eyes are made. It helps them see, to avoid predators.”

“Does it help them be good for riding?” asked Wee Thorin interestedly. “Daddy lets me ride goats sometimes.”

“It does help them be good mounts. And maybe we can get one of the stablehands to put out one of the smaller goats out for you fellows to ride. How does that sound?”

Gimizh grinned. “Grandpa will be so proud!”

Gimli’s smile widened. “That he will, namadul.”

***

The stablehand carefully led the goat around in a small circle, with Balinith clinging to its back. He was last to go, and Wee Thorin and Gimizh were happily poking around the paddock. Gimli was keeping a keen eye on them and the other on his youngest charge. Distracted by Gimizh’s poking at some harness, he didn’t notice anyone coming up behind him until a large hand clapped at his shoulder. Gimli turned around and blanched.

“Good afternoon, Your Majesty,” said Gimli, bowing his head.

“And a good afternoon to you, cousin Gimli,” said Dain. “What brings you to the stables today?”

“It’s Gimizh’s birthday,” sighed Gimli tiredly. “I’m taking him and Dwalin’s two older boys around for a birthday treat.”

“A birthday day out, eh?” said Dain, eyes twinking. “And would the birthday boy and his friends like to ride a pig as a special treat?”

Gimli suppressed his groan. “I’ll ask. Gimizh? Wee Thorin? Come here a moment.”

***

Gimizh carefully settled himself in the saddle. The pig was  _ ginormous _ . Riding the pig had sounded like a great idea at first, but now Gimizh wasn’t so sure. 

“Mister King?” he wibbled.

“Yes, lad?” said the king (who had very nice tusky things in his beard, in Gimizh’s opinion.)

“What’s the piggy’s name?”

“Her name is Buttons.”

“Okay. Buttons..” Gimizh concentrated on not falling off. The pig snorted. Gimizh giggled. Maybe pigs weren’t so bad after all. 

“Now, Gimizh, how’re you doing?” The king was holding the end of the rope attached to Buttons’ collar, but Gimizh didn’t let that faze him. Obviously he was in control of the pig.

“I’m good. How … How do I make the pig go inna circle?”

Gimizh could see Uncle Gimli frantically gesturing from his corner with Wee Thorin and Balin.

“Sorry, how do I get the pig to go in circles,  _ mista king _ .”  

“Alright, Gimizh, we’ll walk the piggy. Buttons, walk.”

Buttons began moving forward. Gimizh held on tightly. Buttons was  _ very large _ .

After what seemed an eternity of walking, Dain asked, “You up for a little more, Gimizh?”

Gimizh grinned. “Yes, please!” He liked pigs. Especially Buttons.

He patted Buttons’ side, from what he could reach from the saddle. “Good Buttons.”

“If you’re good with more,” said the king, “then Buttons, trot.”

Buttons trotted. Gimizh clutched the reins tightly.

The king must have seen his rising unhappiness at the speed, because his quick “Whoa” brought Buttons to a standstill.

“I’m dizzy,” said Gimizh. “Can I get down? Wee Thorin can have a go.”

“Definitely, little one,” said Dain soothingly. He began unbuckling Gimizh from the harness and swung him down from the saddle. Gimizh steadied himself on the pig’s leg as Wee Thorin came over to the pig’s side.

“You ok?” asked his friend. “You look a little green.”

“I’ll be ok,” said Gimizh as he passed over the training helmet. “I just gotta sit down a minute.”

Gimizh puttered over to what appeared to be a big pile of straw, just the thing for a little boy who felt a bit dizzy from his first-ever pig ride.

Gimizh sat down in the straw, which gave a surprising ‘splat’ noise.

Judging by the smell and the sticky dampness of his breeches, it was not just straw he had sat in.

Gimizh felt his bottom. The expression on his face was comically horrible.

***

Bifur adjusted himself on the settee in the room that Mizim had set aside for her grandson and his friends. 

The three boys were happily napping off their adventures, Gimizh still wet from the bath that had gotten off the pig droppings that had soaked through the straw and his many layers. 

Seeing Gimizh twitch in his sleep, damp braids squeaking, Bifur stood up and patted his head, even though he knew the boy couldn’t feel it. He was very fond of small children, especially this smallest of his cousins. He was so very adventuresome. And adorable. 

Bifur wasn’t biased at all, that you very much. 

***

Gimizh wriggled on his grandpa’s lap. 

“Here you go, magammazul,” said his uncle, putting a package in his lap.

Gimizh definitely did not squeal as he ripped open the wrapping paper.

“Jacket!”

Gimli smiled. “It’s like mine, but smaller.” Gimizh held up the jacket, carefully comparing it to his uncle’s. The brown material was the same - heavy and warm with little up-and-down stripes, perfect for winter in the Mountain. The pattern looked the same, except Gimizh’s had bigger buttons.

“Help me put it on, Gwanpa?”

“Of course, my little gingersnap.” A moment’s squirming and the jacket was on, and Gimli had surrendered his place in line to a gaggle of Bumbur and Alris’ children.

“Happy Birthday!” they chorused, then Baris, who seemed to have been elected spokesperson, stepped forward. 

“We thought that you might like some new play-jewelry, so we all put our money together and bought you some. Here’s a piece that will make your birthday a little more regal,” she said, and dug her hand into the bag. “Close your eyes and I’ll give it to you.”

Gimizh squished his eyes shut and held out his hands. A heavy weight plunked down into his palms, and he opened his eyes on - 

“A TIARA!” he hollered, and shoved it on his head, jumping down off of Gloin’s lap to hug Baris and as many of his cousins as he could reach, all the while shouting about his new present. He finally ended up by Baris again.

“Put it on right, please?”

It would have taken a stronger dwarrowdam than Baris to say no to those big eyes.

Gimizh, freshly tiara’d, climbed back up on Gloin’s lap, to receive the next present, in this case a small box from - “whassit say, grandpa?” asked Gimizh, peering at the label.

“It says,” said Gloin, after Mizim handed him his glasses, “to Gimizh, from Wee Thorin and Balin.”

Gimizh veeeery carefully opened the lid of the box and peered inside. “A birdie!” Gimizh turned it all around and over. “What type of bird is it?” he asked, hoping he didn’t look as confused as he felt.

“Itsa  _ eagle _ ,” said Balin carefully.

“Just like the ones that rescued the our Dads on the Quest!”

“And it has a string so you can make it fly,” added Dwalin, which meant that, of course, Gimizh had to make it fly around. Because he had to show everyone what a good gift it was.

***

Gimizh stared at the large tray that stood before him on the table. Mum and Dad were being  _ very mean _ and wouldn’t let him open it until everyone had settled at the table. Gimizh was so annoyed that he had gone and sat on Mister Dori’s lap to wait. Mister Dori did good hugs, and always smelled nice.

“Gimizh?” His mum looked around until she saw him. “There you are! Come here, and you can open up your cake.”

“Awwight, Mum,” said Gimizh, and he wriggled off Dori’s lap and towards the head of the table.

He carefully took off the top of the tray (with maybe a little help from his dad) and stared at his cake in dumbstruck awe. 

After a moment’s silence, Bofur asked, “Do you like it, son?”

Gimizh’s eyes were wide. “It’s … a giant cookie. A giant cookie!” He grinned. “It’s great!” 

Clapping his hands together, he laughed. “Thank you, Uncle Bombur. Thank you, Barur.”

Bombur smiled. “We’re glad you like it, Gimizh. Now, do you want the first slice?”

Gimizh nodded frantically.

***

Gloin carefully readjusted Gimizh in his lap. The lad was so entranced by the puppet show that he didn’t seem to notice being moved.

Finding a puppet show company that did small private showings hadn’t been too hard, but Gloin hadn’t been sure of the idea when Mizim had brought it up the idea the first time. But, seeing as how all the children (and some of the adults) were entranced by the performance, it had been a good investment.

**

Bofur tucked his sleeping son into bed, careful not to jar his head or squish Gimizh’s stuffed Bomfur toy. Gimizh and most of the other small children had fallen asleep before the end of the puppet show following the party proper, and so the remaining people had dribbled away quietly, carrying their children or empty food containers. 

Gimizh stirred, hearing a large noise from down the hall - probably Gimris moving some chairs. 

“Dad?”

“Yes, son?”

“Thi’ was a good birfday.” Gimizh yawned. “Ver’ good.”

“That’s good to hear, lad. Now go to sleep.” Bofur kissed Gimizh’s cheek, then left the room, taking the lamp with him. Gimizh heard his dad humming as he fell into sleep.

_ Finis _

_ magammazul: " _ that which continues to be wild"

_margu_ : "celebration"


End file.
